I left my heart in NY

Amazing birthday? Check
Brilliant time seeing old mates? Check
Falling deeper into "like" with CB? Double check
Being ready to come home when the time came? Negative
I had no choice but to come back on Thursday as my movers were coming Friday to take me from Ghetto Fabulous W6 to Fabulous. NW8. Never the less my heart remained in NY with my friends and the boy and bagels that you can't get anywhere else. Going back to the US is always bittersweet. It reminds me of what I miss while the reasons I left stare me down with persistence. If I could have it my way, I would import the things I long for(whilst remaining firmly planted in LondonTown):A few key friends, Mexican food, stores that have everything negating the need to go to Tesco+Hardware store+post office +Boots, good cocktails and Happy Hour. That said, I did have a bit of culture shock (which quickly gave way to pleasantly surprised) at how friendly people are. I know the commonly held belief is that New Yorkers are rude, erm, whoever said that should come to London. I think it was even more evident to me being in NY with a Brit. For the first few hours we would just look at each other in amazement everytime a shopkeep, deli person or taxi driver would thank us and smile. Most impressive was the doorman at our hotel who genuinly seemed to remember and care that we had a nice day. No joke. At one point CB looked at me, smiled and said, "Your people seem to genuinly wonder how one is and that one has a nice day!" I quickly put his mind to rest by explaining that as a culture Americans tend to be enthusiastic about everything they say. I mean, I can't have him thinking that America is the land of milk and honey. I already had to convince him he couldn't work there after a fun night of the Knicks and Time Square had him querying whether we might be able to live there sometime for a few years. Apparently he and I are a WE now and without even living together are contemplating moving country? Sorry, No. Ixnay on the Moveay to Americanay any time Soonay. End of story.

Meet me in New York

In case my 2.5 readers didn't notice, I am trying to spice things up by including pictures with my posts. I figure even people who can't read (ie the .5 in 2.5) can still look at peerty photos. Who am I kidding? I am actually trying to get 3.5 readers. The model photograph was step one.

Step two is to start taking personal trips in addition to spending 75% of my time travelling for work. That way I get to spend my own money, stay in hotels that aren't nearly as nice and am relegated to cattle class with the normal people on airplanes. Hurrah! I jest. Hopefully this will give me some more fun blog material and people can stop reading about work this, work that. All who know me will attest that I try and take just as many leisure trips as business, this year has just been extra heavy on the business side.

So first on the agenda is a trip to NYC for my birthday. Hurrah again! I have several friends there and one of my 'Merican mates from the West Coast is representing as well. And (drum roll please) CB is also coming along. Big deal me thinks, first holiday together and his first time in NY. I am very excited (72 hours to take off) and actually had a dream the other night that CB got kicked to the back of the plane where there was no catering or bar service while I was upgraded to First Class. God Bless BA! I mean, erm, what's wrong with BA? Here's the kicker, in my dream, I negotiated with the airline staff to get him up with me since I am flying on my birthday. Christ on a stick! I am negotiating in my dreams? Clearly work has taken a toll on me this year. Next thing I know I am going to be issuing press releases about my holiday. Wait, that's kinda what this is isn't it? This is bad.

Little Voice: Little Problem

It's not normal, I realise this, but I have an OCD issue when it comes to music that I really like.

I download it or buy the CD and literally listen to it NON STOP for days, sometimes even weeks on end. Its happened with others, Sara isn't my first, but each time I am amazed at my own ability to listen the same 10-13 songs again and again and again. Like a compulsion. It's just wrong. On that note, Little Voice is great. Highly recommend it. Similar to Cherry I think she and I could be friends. I found out yesterday that Love Song was written after a record label told her she had to write a love song for her album. She's rebellious, I know we'd be fast mates.

Flirting with Disaster

It's something we perfect from the time we are wee ones...or not. Some folks have the natural gift of charm and some struggle to keep the interest of a Jehovah’s Witness knocking on their door. Flirting is a harmless way for coupled off people to keep boredom at bay and a safe route for singletons to test the waters.

Last night as the evening wound down at a gallery event in London sprinkled with celebs and sponsored by my company; my boss, a colleague and I ducked to the champagne bar to sneak a quick glass of bubbly and toast the colleague's engagement. Glasses mid air, lips pursed to sip, we all three stopped mid way to ogle an amazing specimen of a man who was currently being photographed on the step and repeat. Visibly shaken the 3 of us, in unison said....who is that? Well it was more like WHO! IS! THAT!?. Never mind that he had an unearthly looking woman on his arm, we saw nothing but him. After completing the toast and investigating a bit we came to find out he was the new face of a top European designer.

About 20 minutes later and glass or so of champers later we stumbled upon him (sans ethereal female beauty) somewhere between the nude magazine covers of stars and the portraits of blue stockings. My boss (happily married) struck up a conversation with said hunk while colleague (newly engaged) and I looked on. None of us are sure how this happened, but somehow talk of "the industry" commenced. Now, let's be clear, when I say "the industry" I don't mean PR or IT which is what the 3 of us are comfortable in our knowledge of. No, when I say "the industry" I mean the modelling industry. Colleague and I pretty much stood there staring at the man, while our boss nodded in agreement about commonly held notions and the perils of being beautiful. In order to wrap up the conversation, my boss said we would see him later at the "exclusive" party that was meant to follow the gallery event. Gorgeous didn't know where it was so my boss deferred to me. I explained where it was and as we signalled our departure, I blurted out, Thank You. Thank you? What?

We walked away and my boss conceded that the entire conversation had been for my benefit. We also all agreed that the entire time she had been talking to him none of us actually heard what was coming out of his mouth. We were so lost in his appearance we couldn't even hear what he was saying. Everyone did, however, catch my THANK YOU! at the end. Shame. Just when the artful skill that has taken me years to perfect and is usually very useful could have come in the most handy, I failed miserably.

Probably for the best. I'm sure I would get tired of his chiselled torso, dreamy eyes and amazing cheekbones. Well, I say tired, but really what I mean is I would feel fat and ugly every day I woke up next to him. He would always feel intellectually inferior to me and between our travel schedules we would never see one another. Best that no one got hurt.

Deuchtland

Ahh Bavaria. Pretzles, bier, beautiful clouds and weiners. What more could a girl want. One of the things I am coming to appreciate more as I travel frequently are repeat offenders. Coming back to the same city or same country means I have little things that make the business trips more fun. For instance, there is this Milk and Honey bath soak that is only available in Germany. I forgot about it until I went to the Apotheke today and saw it. Each place that I have been and revisit has something not matter how big or how small that makes being away from home more bearable.

Sunday Kind of Love

Breathing is so much easier when you have a reason to slow down. The Soweto Gospel Choir was amazing last night and set a perfect mood for doing nothing but relax today. Breakfast, a walk in the still chilled winter sun, some jazz music, a Sunday roast and someone who misses me when I am gone. What more could one ask for in a perfect Sunday?